Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 297

Sonnet Coupled Playlist by Roxanne D. Howard

Hi Everyone, Roxanne D. Howard here. I write contemporary, paranormal, and interracial erotic romance novels. Thank you for having me on your blog! Today I’d like to share with you the playlist I listened to while writing my newest New Adult interracial novel, Sonnet Coupled. Music can really set the mood for any scene in a book or movie, and can highlight the emotion in the story. 

For me, I discovered a song by a British band called The Shires, called Brave. I first heard it while I was tossing the plot of the book around my head, and the lyrics really resonated with me. The more I listened to the song, the more I realized I wanted to write something with the same feel as the song; of two lonely people finding something magical and safe in a harsh world. Serious as a heart attack, if the book were ever made into a movie, this is the song I would champion to be the song they play during the end credits, no contest.

ER nurse Sonnet Mendoza has been living alone for over a year since her Papi died, and she’s looking for a roommate. When her paths cross with recently-returned Marine and Police Academy cadet Griffith Parker, he shows her there’s more to life than her career. The whole song pretty much tells the story of Griffith and Sonnet, but a few lines, in particular, highlight how they complement each other in different ways.

Griffith is finding his feet in the civilian world again, and Sonnet has been touch-starved and lonely, until they meet: 

Well, let me hold your heart, let me be the one
You'll never have to feel so alone
Let me bring you back to the world, back home

I hope you all check out and enjoy Sonnet Coupled. It’s a passionate erotic romance very near and dear to my heart, and I love writing about two cultures coming together. It’s a powerful thing. Enjoy the playlist, and tell me what some of your favorite songs are in the comments!



1. “Brave” – The Shires

2. “Cancao do Mar” – Dulce Pontes

3. “Because We Can” – Bon Jovi

4. “Keep Your Head Up” – Andy Grammar

5. “Home” – Phillip Phillips

6. “For Once in my Life” – Michael Buble

7. “In the Still of the Night” – Boyz II Men

8. “All is Full of Love” – Bjork

9. “No Surprise” – Daughtry

10. “It’s Alright” – Seal

11. “Say Hey (I love you)” – Michael Franti and Spearhead

12. “Angel” – Robbie Williams

13. “I’ll Be There For You” – Bon Jovi

14. “Just give me a reason” – Pink ft. Nate Ruess

15. “I won’t give up” –Jason Mraz



Sonnet CoupledRoxanne D. Howard
Genre: New Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, Multicultural, Interracial
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Date of Publication: April 25, 2017
Number of pages: 227Word Count: 65,864
Cover Artist: Boroughs Publishing Group
Tagline:ER nurse Sonnet Mendoza's new housemate Griffith Parker proves there is more to a man than meets the eye, and shows her there's more to life than just her career.

Book Description:
ALWAYS FAITHFUL
Sheltered and cosseted, Sonnet Mendoza abided by her papi’s wishes her whole life: no boys, studies first and always. Now an ER nurse in a busy Chicago hospital, medical school is so close Sonnet can taste it—just like her father always wanted. Just like she can she can taste all the things she wants, like Griffith Parker, the man of her dreams and her new housemate.

Working “graves” in a large hospital as a security guard while attending the police academy during the day doesn’t leave ex-Marine Griffith Parker any personal time, but after meeting the beautiful Sonnet Mendoza business as usual is anything but. Sassy, smart…and interested in him, too? Except, she’s made an art of keeping her distance, and she's been clear that her plans don't include him. 

But the heart wants what the heart wants. His wants Sonnet. He’ll put it on the line to win her.


Boroughs Publishing      Amazon       Smashwords      Kobo    BN
Excerpt 3            It had grown dark, and the lampposts in the parking lot were lit. She had a little pep in her step as she walked to the ER doors, but she stopped and didn’t go in. He was there, hands on his duty belt as he talked with a patient near the security desk. Griffith emitted shock waves of sex appeal, even from where she stood.            Oh, hell no.            She’d never be able to walk past him after what she’d done the other night. She reddened. Not like he would even know about her stupid fantasies, but shewould. She’d half forgotten he would be on graves with her, too wrapped up in the exhilaration of getting into medical school and…other activities.            Evasive maneuvering seemed the best way to go, so she sidestepped and made her way around to the back employee entrance leading into the ER. She smiled to herself over the minor victory, and pushed against the handle to go in, but it didn’t budge.            “You’ve uh, got to pull it.”            She turned around, and there he stood, dangling a black Maglite in his hand. She reigned in the growl that wanted to surface. “I’m sorry?”            “The door. You need to yank the handle toward you, not push it. There’s a sign.”            Sonnet froze, and eyed the PULL sticker she’d been oblivious to, right above said handle.            “Of course,” she murmured. “Figures.” Even though he must think her an imbecile, she raised her chin with defiance and muttered her thanks as she tugged on the door. It didn’t move.            “Use your badge,” he said. “It’s a security measure so no unauthorized personnel get in.” She glanced at him. He crossed his arms, and his lips fought a losing battle to twitch upward.            Sonnet shook her head, flustered, and rooted around her purse for her work badge. “Look, I realize you think I’m a total moron here, but it’s my first night on the floor, my car had trouble starting earlier, and my nerves are all shot to hell. So, I’d appreciate it if you, your ridiculously stacked chest, and all your muscles wouldn’t judge me, okay? I’m nervous enough as it is. We’re not all perfect.” She held her badge to the RFID reader. The second the green light went on, he beat her to the handle and held the door open for her.            She didn’t see a wedding ring on his left hand. Hmm.            He smirked. “Good to know you like my muscles.” He raised his eyebrows as she clipped past him.            “Shut it, Rambo.”


About the Author:
Roxanne D. Howard is a U.S. Army veteran who has a bachelor's degree in Psychology and English. She loves to read poetry, classical literature, and Stephen King. Also, she is an avid Star Wars fan, musical theater nut, and marine biology geek. Roxanne resides in the western U.S., and when she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and children. Roxanne loves to hear from her readers, and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.
Website: http://roxannedhoward.com/
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Interview - Spellcaster by George Backman

Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?
I love stories about ghostly happenings and incursions of other worlds into this one. I also love stories about periods of social change. I was excited to find a way to combine the two.
What is it about the paranormal, in particular vampires, that fascinates you so much?
The paranormal speaks to the idea that this world is more than what the senses can fully take in, which means the world inside us is too. If you cock your head or open your ears atjust the right moment, you can catch a glimpse or note of something transcendent.  
What inspired you to write this book?
Initially, I was moved by Edith Wharton's stories of the social changes experienced by the New York upper crust during the Gilded Age. Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale encouraged me to think about that theme in conjunction with the idea of the supernatural co-existing with the real world and occasionally invading it.
Please tell us about your latest release.
Spellcaster  takes place mostly in an alternate fin de siècle England and concerns  Christine Daniel, a debutante on the verge of adulthood. She has everything going for her except a debilitating illness and the paranormal visions that seem to cause them. During the London Season, Allie, her older sister and the family heir, seeks a match among the English aristocracy while she searches the occult underground for answers. The only witch who can help is an aristocrat named Lady Kinloss whose great powers have not helped her social standing. Unfortunately for Christine, Kinloss won't do so unless Christine cajoles Allie into marrying her lover, Lord Serton, another impoverished aristocrat, so that the illicit pair can share Allie's inheritance. Christine is forced into a Hobson's choice between betraying her sister and saving her own life.
Do you have a special formula for creating characters' names? Do you try to match a name with a certain meaning to attributes of the character or do you search for names popular in certain time periods or regions?
I have used a few obscure historical personages in my book. My villain Lady Kinloss, for example, is more or less real, though, as far as I know, her historical counterpart did not practice witchcraft or scheme with married lovers. Her name happens to be evocative and appropriate for her, but otherwise my choices of names are arbitrary.
Was one of your characters more challenging to write than another?
No. All of them came easily to me this time.
Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others?
Christine. She is very much part of her world and yet something about her stands apart.
Do you have a formula for developing characters? Like do you create a character sketch or list of attributes before you start writing or do you just let the character develop as you write?
The characters develop as I write, always. I don't follow any formula, being simply content to let their actions play out on the page as I am sure they would in real life.
What is your favorite scene from the book? Could you share a little bit of it, without spoilers of course?
Perhaps odd concerning a supernatural fantasy, but my favorite scene contains no element of the paranormal. Christine catches Allie and the dastardly Lord Serton alone together in a bedroom during a party that has gotten a little out of control. At this juncture the pair are innocent – Serton is only showing Allie some artwork -- but Christine, protective and perhaps a little priggish, assumes the worst and promptly lets Allie have it.   
Did you find anything really interesting while researching this or another book?
Besides the historical Lady Kinloss, the obscure rituals Christine engages in are mostly based on rites outlined in grimoires like The Book of the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage and practiced by magicians going back to Mesopotamia. Most of the architectural and social details are also accurate, as is the picture of the occult culture Christine and Lady Kinloss operate in.
What is the most interesting thing you have physically done for book related research purposes?
My physical labors are confined to diving into the most obscure texts I can find in libraries and online.
Can you tell readers a little bit about the world building in the book/series? How does this world differ from our normal world?
I kept as much as the real world as I could, to make the supernatural all the more convincing. Most of the occult material is only a little altered from source texts.

Do any of your characters have similar characteristics of yourself in them and what are they?
Except for Christine's slight priggishness, none of my characters share my personality traits. I write to get away from myself as much as possible.
Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it?
Never. If anything, more stories seem to slip away from me than I can commit to paper.
Do you have any weird writing quirks or rituals?
None. I wonder if this in itself isn't a quirk.
Do you write in different genres?
Yes, all of them. My next book will be a historical fantasy.
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres?
Genre is only another set of tools, like style and varieties of character. The present story dictates the genre, never the other way around.
When did you consider yourself a writer?
Always. As opposed to what? I don't know what it is to not identify as a writer.
What are your guilty pleasures in life?
I have a yen for classic bad movies, but given how cool Rifftrax has made them, I'm not sure how guilty those pleasures are.
Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?
Anime, manga and Asian art cinema, particularly classics of the Taiwanese new wave and China's Fifth Generation.
What was the last amazing book you read?
The Tale of Genji, which may be the best novel I've ever read besides Proust's vast fairy tale and Cao Xueqin's Story of the Stone.
Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot?
There is nothing like reading in bed in the dead of night while classical music softly pipes from your stereo.
What can readers expect next from you?
A fantasy which will be closely based on historical events while managing to take more liberties.
Where can readers find you on the web?
Amazon      Goodreads
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book?
I had to wait till Wednesday before dawn, since that was the time of the daemon I must supplicate. Even on Lady Kinloss’s property I would not dare be caught with the package I carried under my arm with such anxiety that perspiration on my arms and chest greased it from my grip several times and I nearly rolled it like a bowling ball into the lone boulder- and birch-enclosed grotto I had chosen. I sat on a large flat boulder jutting out over the stream that ran past the grotto. My limbs trembled, my eyes swam with fear so that looking through birch trees at the twilight-shaded fields and streams around it was difficult; but always a restless, frantic impulse urged me on, often as a voice talking me though too many moral recriminations and imagined horrors of getting caught by a stray squire or fisherman. Despite all that I did maintain reasonable self-control. I would not let myself think of my time nearly two hours ago at St. Paul’s churchyard. The air was as damp, and cold as it was now, as my heart, and a freezing drizzle started to fall. Slight as it was it soaked the earth by the front gate and the dirt caking my shovel and burlap sack into mud. The breeze slapped the surrounding broad leaves into my face and showered fine dust down my cloak and hood. The sight of the watchman kept me frozen in place, or rather his torchlight casting shadows across the tombs and the charnel-house beyond them I needed to investigate. My stupid mind wondered if rain makes mud softer or harder. The hands on my timepiece hardly seemed to move. The implements in the sack poked my lap. I wondered if I should have taken a lighter shovel from Lady Kinloss’s work shed. By bellonsphere my lady had assured me he would vanish at three o’clock and allow the new Provençal friend of his best customer thirty lonely minutes, enough time, as long as the honest old coot could say he had not seen said friend. As long as no one came along the street out of the half-dark, defying what the eyes told. As long as my nerve held out and I did not flee around the corner to the horse tied to the broken lamppost there. As long as I kept still and waited for whatever mysterious impulse would finally take him out of my way already.
After an age, he moved off from the charnel-house. One push at the gate told me he’d already left it open, the sadistic tease, and I slipped through it dripping wet splotches of filthy water behind me like a damned soul tracking mud into Charon’s boat. Nobody around. Leaving the gate nearly shut behind me, I scoured the graves in the right section of the churchyard over and over in the dark. Then the freshly turned earth of the grave my lady had had her glimmer-man mark for me kicked up and settled on my shoes, my burlap sack, and the hem of my cloak. I hoped the four feet between me and what I needed did not prove too challenging. I did not have time to dig around the six-by-four containment if they did.
Not wanting to impose more than I had already, I had refused my lady’s offer of her glimmer-man—her lookout, though I couldn’t imagine why she’d need one for—to keep watch on the street with his torch. I hunched over the headstone and with my shovel made a small cut in the earth the width of the grave. Thank God the mud proved soft, easy to dig down and down into without too much disturbance of the soil.
A thud and the shovel scraped something. I brushed stray dirt from the lid and swung down hard into the top of the coffin. The crack of the old wood exploded in the wet, sweet air like gunpowder and the stench of rotting meat welled up. The noise froze me except my eyes which bulged in the direction the watchman had gone. I didn’t know how much time passed before my heart suddenly relieved at no one appearing unfroze my body, allowed me to smash in the lid. It gave way and no one came screaming from the street.
From the sack I took the rope and the hook, which were already fastened to each other. I took a deep breath inside my cloak and dropped the hook into the black hole and reached in with my other hand. When I felt the chin I slipped the hook into the soft spot between the throat and the jaw. A gentle push, then a tug, then a push and the steel plopped into the flesh and bone. “Streng verboten” I muttered, and as hard as I could, my biceps aching from the words I’d put into them, I arched back and yanked the rope.
The flesh-tattered head of the nameless man or woman popped up through the crack in the lid. What little flesh hung off it was alabaster in the torch-spotted blackness. Stench boiled at my face, a whoosh of air. My stomach heaved me to the ground. I gasped into the sour-tasting earth. My nostrils sucked up holy ground.
I did not need to strip the ancient body so I’d only brought a panel hacksaw, no scissors. For the hair I merely yanked the few remaining strands and threw them to the side. I grasped the knotted neck as far from the chin as possible and ignored the harsh scrape of metal on bone, so difficult proved the labor. The head snapped off. I dropped the saw to chase the head over the tombstone.
Carefully I placed the head, shovel, hook, and hacksaw in the sack. I shoved the ruined neck bone back into the coffin and packed soil over it until it looked undisturbed. I checked the street all along the gate, smoothing over my tracks, and then ran for the horse, hardly feeling the weight of the sack.
No, I would not think about that. It did not matter where the head I placed on the ground came from.
From an inside pocket in my cloak I scooped out five black beans. One went into the dead thing’s mouth, two in its eyes, and two in its ears. From that same pocket I drew a charcoal pen I hoped had not ruined the cloak in my haste. Hoping I correctly remembered the instructions in the grimoire I’d consulted, I drew an unspeakable figure on its face and pointed the face toward heaven. The drizzle smeared the figure a little, but that did not matter.
Not trusting my tear-blurred eyes, I scuttled back until I pushed up against one of the surrounding boulders to make sure I had sufficient room between me and the skull. 
Starting from the skull’s chin and working my way backward I inscribed into the damp brown mud deeply enough to be seen: SCABOLES, HABRION, ELÆ, ELIMIGIT, GABOLII, SEMITRION, MENTINOBOL, SABANITEUT, HEREMOBOL, CANE, METHÉ, BALUTI, CATEA, TIMEGUEL, BORA.
The dampness did not obscure the charcoal, even after a few moments of that drizzle. I put the pen back in my pocket and knelt before the skull, coolness seeping through the cloak onto my knees.
“O Ye Spirits of Invisibility, I conjure and constrain you incontinently and forthwith to consecrate this experiment, so that, surely and without trickery, I may go invisible. 
Furthermore, I conjure you by your prince, by the obedience which you owe to him and by the power of God, incontinently to aid me by consecrating this experiment, without loss of my body or my soul. So be it, so be it, so be it.”
I did not have nine days to tease out the spirit with brandy and constant prayers so I gave the skull something daemons prefer anyway. I opened the vein in my right wrist, opened deeply, and squeezed blood upon the teeth and skinless mouth. The pain was nothing next to my fear at that damned brightening sky.
Without moving its mouth, the skull suddenly asked in a bored, nasal voice as deep as mine sometimes got, “What doest thou?”
Daemons and their damned feigned ignorance and need for ceremony. “I am watering my plant,” I repeated the formula, trying not to stir impatiently.
“Give me your arm, I will water it myself.”
My arm was on fire. I kept squeezing even when that fire became sharp pangs. “No!” I snapped.
After a few minutes of tedious back and forth when I was ready to give the whole thing up and leave Sir Tomas’s two friends to rot, an arm-shaped fog finally reached out of the skull’s mouth and drew in the air the same figure I’d traced upon the head.
I sighed. “So it is you and not some other who’s come to take advantage of me.
“Take those wretched beans out of me and put them in your mouth if you like them so much. Yew!”
“Will it work?”
“Yes, yes. After the bean, go look in the water and see that you have what you’ve asked for.”I transferred a bean from its mouth to mine and bent over the nearest stream. Nothing but the fish feeding at the stream’s bottom looked back at me; I could not see myself.
“Everyone but you will be able to see you without effort,” the skull said tiredly, in the voice of one that had fulfilled this request so many times that a supplicant’s particular needs no longer excited his curiosity. “A side-effect, but if you want to hide from the one who hunts you, you’ll just have to put up with it. You will have to picture yourself in your mind to view your image in a mirror, though it will only be from your mind. But the one you cloak yourself from cannot see you until Sir Tomas, your past self, returns to his time. Eat the rest of those wretched things or give them to whoever else you would protect.”
“I have no one else.”
It must have sensed I was about to ask about Rodham and Valerie, for it retorted, “Not within my power!” and the fog of air exploded in the light rain. I made sure I’d packed over the black words and sacked the skull for later disposal before the sun really started to brighten and the fishermen’s dogs barked from somewhere in the distance, sending me hence like a cock crow in reverse.

Spellcaster
George Backman

Print Length: 262 pages

Publisher: Sublime Ltd. 

Publication Date: April 3, 2017


ASIN: B06Y1FMY33


Christine Daniel suffers in ways no sixteen year-old should and that no doctor has been able to cure. That's because the excruciating pains and high fevers slowly debilitating her aren't triggered by a physical cause but by visions of a youth calling to her while fleeing a mysterious man who means him harm. This could hardly be happening at a worse time, when she and her beautiful older sister Allison are making their début in high society, like other wealthy socialites seeking matches with titled but impoverished gentlemen in Victorian England.
Because of his pleas, Christine is convinced that to stop the visions she must somehow save this youth. But first she has to find him, and since she's seen him only in visions, she needs someone who'd know how to locate someone through means outside the known senses, the paranormal. 
Unfortunately the authorities have driven underground all but one of the country's occultists, and the reason she isn't hiding is the only reason she might help Christine, something she wants in return. Christine must convince Allison to marry the occultist's lover, one of those impoverished gentlemen, so that the illicit pair can share her part of the family fortune while continuing their affair.
If Christine doesn't stop the visions by saving the youth, the pains and fevers will eventually kill her. But if she does what the occultist wants, she will betray Allison to a lifetime of misery. Can she lead her sister into a marriage with a very bad man if doing so is the only way to save her own skin – literally?
Amazon      Goodreads

A Review of Whiskey Words and a Shovel I by r.h. Sin

My Review:
Simple yet deep.
r.h. Sin writes poetry that touches the reader's soul, makes a connection.
Many people hate poetry. They think it is a bunch of fancy words that require a cypher to decode the meaning. Full of metaphors, similes, and metered verse they just don't appeal to the average person.

Then you get the haters that think poetry has to be stuffy and appear in some obscure literary journal to have merit.

So when it comes to poetry you get the people that avoid poetry in general, people that avoid anything "non-literary", and people like me who appreciate the words whether they are fancy verse or free flowing thoughts. 

Sin's poems appeal to poetry lovers like me who enjoy the words and meaning and he is appealing to hybrid fans- those who never really cared for poetry but find meaning in his words.

Sin connects with the average person because his poetry can be deep, profound...yet the words are simple and easy to understand. 

Stark, blunt, they reach out and grab you.

Things we all feel, put into words we can all understand.

Simple. Exquisite.

Lines that go stright to the heart with no wasted words.


Whiskey Words and a Shovel I
by r.h. Sin

Completely revised and expanded brand-new edition of Volume I, the first book in the Whiskey poetry trilogy!

Whiskey, Words, and a Shovel, Vol. 1, is about reclaiming your power on the path to a healthy relationship. It is a testament to choosing to love yourself, even if it means heartbreak.

Originally released in 2015, this re-rerelease packs the same punch as the first version, but makes an even greater connection with the soul of the reader. Each piece has been re-seen and revamped to reflect the author’s continuing journey with his partner, Samantha King, without whom this book would not exist. Samantha is the muse, the “she” the writer speaks of; she is every woman who has felt like she wasn’t good enough, and every woman who struggles to find love.  

A Review of Grave Ransom by Kalayna Price

Grave Ransom by Kalayna Price
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Walking corpses, crazy drama, heartbreak and family....Alex never has it easy.

Grave Ransom is a magic laced journey full of wyrd and grave magic wrapped up in necromancy- and Alex has a target on her back with a desperate necromancer trying to stop her from undoing all his work.

This book is filled with drama, action, and emotional distress (for Alex). Her eyesight keeps getting worse, her love life is a mess with a forbidden boyfriend whose name she doesn't even know and her ex boyfriend forced to be her shadow because he is charged with watching over her by the Winter Queen of Faerie. Now she stumbled into something she's never come across before- a walking corpse- and finds herself entangled in something much larger than one anomaly.

And she has her very own Faerie Castle and all that goes with it...that appeared in the mortal realm. Kinda. It straddles the two planes existing in both. But she has to keep it a secret from the outside world.

The world of Alex Craft is a mix of Laurell K Hamilton's Merry Gentry, Kim Harrison's The Hollows, and Darynda Jones's Charley Davidson books all tossed together to make something unique and totally engrossing. If you are a fan of any or all of the previously mentioned series than you'll love the Alex Craft novels.

I received this review copy from NetGalley

View all my reviews

Bewitching Boxes of Books & Swag Giveaway

Here's a sneak peek at the boxes of goodies
Bewitching Book Tours is giving away 2 boxes full of mystery books.
I'm cleaning off my bookshelves and you get to reap the rewards. Many of the books are review copies- some are ARCs. Some are new, some are several years old. 
All have been read so these are not brand new books. But if you are a booklover that doesn't really matter does it?
One box is full of paranormals- urban fantasy, paranormal romance, fantasy romance. It also contains some swag- Fang-tastic Books bumper sticker, Bewitching Book Tours notepad, bookmark, etc.
The other box is full of steamy hot erotica and erotic romance- also contains some fun swag including a black leather(ish) flogger and a feather tickler.

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The Knight by Victoria Danann

The KnightR. Caine High SchoolBook TwoVictoria Danann
Genre: YA Paranormal, Teen
Publisher: 7th House Publishing,Imprint of Andromeda LLC
Date of Publication: April 26, 2017
ASIN: B06W5QZ81Q
Number of pages: 268Word Count:  63,000
Cover Artist: Victoria Danann
Tagline: The gods are playing games with their own children on the most treacherous terrain in the universe… high school.
Book Description:
"FIVE STARS for one of the most peculiar high school experiences of all time!"  - The World is Hers for the Reading
New York Times bestselling author, Victoria Danann dishes up a stunning new teen/young adult series like nothing else.
Jean Marre's recent life has been one big surprise right after another. First his family moved to SoCal from a remote French Canadian town. Then he began feeling a strange compulsion to watch over a smart little blonde named Ever Moore. In fact he found himself restless, distracted, and uncomfortable if she wasn't around.
Before there was time to adjust to any of that, he was informed that his parents were going to South Africa for a few months and leaving him with his mother's friend, who happened to be Ever's mother.
Life just couldn't get stranger.
Or could it?
Find out why readers are calling #rcainehs funny, fast paced, and fabulous with flair.
If you haven't already read the introduction, The Game Begins, get it on Amazon and start reading today.
Amazon

Excerpt:
Jean Marre folded himself into the front passenger seat of Ever’s car to ride to school. For the entire fifteen minutes it took to get there, neither said one word to the other. That did not, however, mean that they didn’t dork with each other all the way there. Jean Marre’s opening shot was to change her satellite radio to a different channel. Hair Band Nation. She gaped at him for a full four seconds when her eyes should have been on the road before punching the number one button to return to Sounds of the SuperNow. He stared at her blankly for a matching four seconds then, without taking his gaze away from her or changing expression, reached over and pushed the button to return to “last played”. Hair Band Nation.After three more volleys, Ever turned the radio off with a snarl. When Jean Marre started to reach for it, she gave him a look that froze his had midair. He withdrew the offending appendage, but the challenge Ever offered with her look brought a gleam of amusement to his eyes.  He did not touch the radio again. Instead he rolled down his window which, of course, threatened to make a beachy wreck of her hair. She rolled it back up. He rolled it down. She rolled it back up and, with a sneer of victory, pushed the child lock into place before he could do it again. His bark of laughter surprised her and, if she was being perfectly honest, pleased her. She was not being perfectly honest. He had a nice laugh, but she was not ready to give him any concession.She pulled into her assigned parking space, which was located in the remotest region of Mongolia because she was a sophomore, got out, and started walking without looking back. It was a hike, but at least she could bring a car, unlike freshmen. Halfway there she looked over her shoulder. Jean Marre was about twenty feet behind her. “Don’t worry about me.” He grinned. “I like the view from here.”Understanding the implication, Ever sped up, which made Jean Marre laugh loud enough for her to hear. The boy seemed to revel in being exasperating. That realization caused Ever to think she needed to reform her approach to Jean Marre. Perhaps she needed to think in terms of opposite world, since everything she did rendered the reverse of a desired effect.She stopped, got control of her breathing, waited for him to catch up and fell in at the same pace. She would never admit that they were walking together. Only that they were moving toward the same place at the same time at the same speed. Together.
When he said, “Excellent choice,” she knew she’d been manipulated. By a boy who didn’t even want to go to college. It was vexing, to say the least.
About the Author:
Victoria Danann is the New York Times bestselling author of eighteen romances. For the past four years in a row, Victoria's Knights of Black Swan series have won prestigious Reviewers' Choice Awards for both BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES and PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL OF THE YEAR. This past year three of her series and three of her novels were nominated. Two of her series took the top two places and two of her books took first and second place in the PNR Novel of the Year category.
In addition to vampire hunting knights, Victoria writes other paranormal romance, scifi, fantasy, contemporary bikers, and teen.
The rich characterizations come from being a lifelong student of behavior, casually, and a serious student of behavior academically. She has also studied comparative religion, myths, and Dark Ages history.
Victoria lives in The Woodlands, Texas with her husband and a very smart, mostly black German Shepherd dog.
Victoria co-hosts the popular ROMANCE BETWEEN THE PAGES podcast which can be found on itunes http://apple.co/2fhRrOE or at → www.romancecast.com  
WEBSITE: → www.VictoriaDanann.com
FACEBOOK: → www.facebook.com/victoriadanannbooks
TWITTER: → www.twitter.com/vdanann
PINTEREST: → www.pinterest.com/vdanann

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My Top Five Favourite Fantasy Novels with Daccari Buchelli

Hi everybody, my name is Daccari Buchelli and I'm a Fantasy Author.Today, I'd like to discuss my top five favourite Fantasy novels of all time.
1) Wizard's First Rule, by Terry Goodkind 
Wizards First Rule is by far one of my favourite Fantasy novels of all. Richard and Khalan's fate is sealed when the barriers holding magic back from the Midlands fail. I loved this book because of its quirky and realistic characters. I immediately felt a kinship with them and couldn't wait to explore their world. The plot had me hooked and I remember reading it for the first time with a huge grin plastered on my face. The world building is incredible, with an elaborate magical system that captured my interest.



2) Sabriel, by Garth Nix
Sabriel is a one of a kind tale. A young woman can send the dead packing with the help of her birthright, which spans countless generations. Sabriel is a brave and disciplined young woman, a true warrior. Amongst the dark and mysterious threats she faces, I saw a glimmer of light in the form of her companions. I loved the concept of the story as a whole, withdangerous undead beings clinging to the world of life, eager to bring about the Abhorsen's demise.


3) Paranormalcy, by Kiersten White
This was the first book I read by Kiersten White and it won't be the last. The main character was instantly likeable, with quirks that made me light up inside. The Urban setting ads a realistic touch to this Fantasy novel, making it seem like the mysterious creatures could in fact be lurking in your own street. There are a lot of interesting Mythological twists to this series, with Paranormalcy being a charming introduction to the author's world. 

4) Howl's Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones
Okay, so I was guilty of having seen the animated film first, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I adored this book. Have I read the others in the series? Not yet, but I plan to. If you love intriguing magical concepts that defy expectations, then this is an ideal read for you. The idea of a collective enemy has always seemed strange to me, but I was rooting for Howl and Sophie to triumph since the beginning. Their relationship made me laugh at the start as they were constantly rowing, much like siblings do. As the story progresses, they begin to understand each other and form a lasting bond that I fell in love with.

5) Ghost of a Shadow, by Andrea Engel
When her Grandmother leaves her a mysterious jewellery box, Sadie discovers an entirely new world close to home. After reading Sadie's tale, I wanted to inhabit her world for real, so much so that I was sad to have the book end. 'Why can't life be like this, with people and creatures that are just as enchanting,' I thought. I was reminded of the crushing disappointment I felt at aged 11 when I realized that I wasn't going to get a letter from the wizarding school ofHogwarts. This bright and charming tale made me ever so briefly feel like a child again, a feat that no other book has accomplished since.

That's all top five of my favourite Fantasy novels. 
Do you have a list of favourite books?

PhoenixThe Peradon Fantasy SeriesBook OneDaccari Buchelli
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher: Buchelli Books
Date of Publication: 30th April 2017
ISBN: 9780995768307 printISBN: 9780995768314 eBookASIN: B06XSL13FD
Number of pages: 396Word Count: 100,980
Cover Artist: T.L. Mason
Tagline: 'You're only a prisoner if you believe you are.'
Book Description:

Princess Violetta Flame lives her life according to rule, but those rules require her to pay a heavy price. Haunted by a devastating loss, she longs for freedom. When a handsome ruler takes a special interest in her, she senses greater things lie ahead, but behind the handsome façade lies a dark secret – one that can usurp her efforts and cast her back into the life she detested.

The throne was never promised to Emperor Ryore Frost, but now that he has ultimate power, his world is filled with possibilities. Citizens bow at his feet, but their fleeting adoration is no match for his obsession with the young Flame Princess. As his feelings for the staunchly independent princess grow, a new threat emerges, bent on undermining his efforts and betraying his sensibilities.
When past tragedies, malevolent behaviour, and strong wills collide, which will reign supreme?




Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/Gh3dyddZCDw
Amazon     Amazon UK    SmashwordsExcerpt:
'Darius, can you feel that?'A tingling sensation seeped into her bones. It pulsed through her, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. 'Darius, something feels wrong.'Violetta turned and was surprised to find Darius facing away. His tall frame appeared to have frozen beside her much loved tree, his face turned up toward the sky.'Brother? What's wrong? Tell me.'Violetta followed her brother's gaze. Darkness stole over her. Violetta could see the storm a mile off and it showed no signs of letting up. She flinched as she felt something hit her face. Water? Darius began to stir, but Violetta's eyes remained fixed on the sky. She had heard of rain. It was said that the Air Realm was frequently visited by such cool showers, but never had she heard of a storm in the Flame Realm. At least, not since the Almighty Storm of the Ancients. Violetta felt her courage flee her. She let out a high-pitched squeal; a reaction to the hands that had forced themselves around her arms.'Shh, it's just me.' Darius stroked the golden waves of her hair. 'We must get inside. Understand?'Violetta gazed into her brother's dark eyes. She nodded.'Yes.''Good, we haven't got long before the storm hits.'Violetta dove toward Jork's ball. She trapped it between her wrinkled skirts, gathering it up in her slender arms. The rain gathered speed.'Darius, I've got it!' she squealed. Silence greeted her. 'Darius? Where are you?'Violetta could hear raised voices in the distance. They were muffled, likely from inside the secret passage they had used to get down here.'Darius?' She spotted a limp shape stretched across the lap of her tree. 'DARIUS!'Something struck Violetta hard in the shoulder, lifting her clean off the ground. Her mouth formed a silent scream as she flew through the air, clinging tight to Jork's ball. To Violetta's surprise, she landed on her feet. Violetta's vision swam, her shoulder screaming in agony at a chunk of ice that had pierced the flesh. She glanced about, searching for Darius when something else zipped past her ear. Violetta tried to put thoughts of the pain aside. She gazed above her, where the sky had become a blinding white. Violetta's fingernails dug into her ball and the agony she felt appeared to diminish. Her eyes snapped down to her shoulder, which only moments ago had been spiking with pain.'That's not possible,' she gasped.Violetta's skin was pale and smooth, not a cut or scratch anywhere in sight. Her eyes wandered down to Jork's ball, before flocking back to the pale skies above. This had to be a dream. The sky here wasn't white. It was a bright and beauteous blue, always.Remembering how Darius had been struck, Violetta returned her gaze to her tree.'Darius?'Her legs carried her over to him, aching with the sudden chill. Violetta was unsure of what she was going to find. She drew close and saw the tree's tangled roots embracing Darius. His mop of dark hair was slick with the rain, his eyes only just glazing over. 'No.' Violetta knelt down and gasped at the sight of her brother's chest. A large needle of ice had speared his flesh, spilling ruby liquid around its edges. A banshee's wail exploded from her. All sound escaped Violetta's world. The edges of her vision darkened, leaving her only with eyes for her brother.'Good Lord, Prince Darius!'Clarisse's harsh voice cut through the silence. The elderly nursemaid sprinted past, her cold stare fixed on the limp form of their Realm's heir. She bent down to examine the prince's wounds, shooting an angry scowl Violetta's way.'Just what did you think you were doing?' she snarled. The veins in her forehead began to rise, as though attempting to escape from their fleshy prison.Violetta's face was devoid of emotion. She could do little more than stare when a startled scream sounded nearby.'My boy!''Mother?' Violetta got back to her feet. 'Mother, ice is coming down from the sky. We must go. Darius said-'Violetta locked eyes with her parent. Tears ran afresh down Queen Isobel's face as she raced through the rain to reach her child. Her golden curls, which were usually pinned atop her head, now hung loose and trailed limply down her back. No-one noticed the shards of ice soaring past. Violetta wanted to run. She wanted to warn her mother before it was too late, but her body felt like it had frozen in place. She strained against her fear with all her might.'Mother, we must go! Now!' The queen darted across to the great oak tree. She scooped up the body of her only son, wailing against his dark mop of hair. 'Darius!'The despair in her voice matched the feelings that stirred within Violetta.
Queen Isobel refused to part from her son. He lay there, still as stone, his flesh growing colder by the moment. Violetta would remember this day for the rest of her life. She clung tight to Jork's gift and prepared to race, to grasp hold of her mother, when another shard shot out of the darkness. A struggling scream filled the air. It was a scream that would haunt her forever.

About the Author:
Born in 1993, British writer Daccari Buchelli spends his time focusing on his favourite genre, Fantasy. Having developed an early love of literature, he became determined to create his own magical wonderlands for fellow readers to explore. He spent his teenage years working on several Fantasy novellas, which he has yet to release to the general public.
He has since released the first book in a new Fantasy series, which revolves around young royals and the elemental magic that they possess.As an active member of the LGBT+ community, Mr Buchelli hopes to help reduce intolerance and bullying by promoting acceptance and understanding of those different to ourselves.
www.buchellibooks.com
https://buchellibooksblog.blogspot.co.uk/
http://mobile.twitter.com/DaccariBuchelli
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15093628.Daccari_Buchelli
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01L5IH3QY
https://facebook.com/DaccariBuchelliBooks/
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Book Hangovers: The Pain You Love to Hate Because It Feels So Damn Great with Ash Krafton

Book Hangovers: The Pain You Love to Hate Because It Feels So Damn GreatA Guest Post of Pain, Misery, and Utter Contentment by Ash Krafton

Yep. That was a pretty confusing title. Mostly because it's paradoxical and logical and completely relatable in all its horrific ridiculosity.
The term alone: book hangover. Two nouns. One word is one of the most amazing words ever written. The other word is a syndrome of withdrawal and physical ache and dejectedness that has nothing positive about it whatsoever.
Put them both together and you get blessed, wonderful, hair-pulling complexity. You hate it. But you want it. And you chase it down, again and again.
What's a book hangover? asks the person who's been living in a bubble in the middle of a no-signal book-free wasteland of Why Do I Even Continue to Exist Because Obviously I Haven't Learned to Truly Live Yet.
For those poor, unfortunate souls, I say this: a book hangover is the syndrome a reader experiences after having become completely immersed in a book's world only to be ripped mercilessly out of it by the words "The End".  Two crueler words have never been uttered.
Look what happens when they show up. Lovers break up long before one is finished loving. Knitters run out of yarn long before they are done knitting.  Toast butterers find themselves desperately scraping out the thinnest smears because half their bagel is still naked but it's no use. They will have to choke down that dry crust because the butter dish cried "No more!"
And readers are forced to close a book and put it down because the author said The End and now there are no more pages to read and those characters live in your head now and the feels aren't done and you can't sleep because you still see those scenes played out in your head and work/school is impossible because you can't stop thinking about that damned book.
Hydration and naps and Alka Seltzer can't fix a book hangover. But there is a cure.
Kind of.
The Hair of the Dog That Bit You
Alcohol creates hangovers because as alcohol is broken down in the body, it gets converted into aldehydes. Unlike fun alcohol, aldehyde is a miserable old sod, which is why being drunk is a lot more fun that being hungover. It's science.
But add a little water and those aldehydes undergo the miracle of transformation and get turned back into alcohol. Bye bye, misery! We got the fun stuff back!
Bloody Marys help, too, because you get hydration, electrolytes, and a liddle bit of something-something to ease off on the aldehyde attack. Plus, you get celery to crunch on, and celery is widely if mistakenly believed to be considered a health food.
So, what's the cure for a book hangover? Not water or terrible-sounding cocktails, obviously, but there's definitely a need for some hair of the dog.
Pick up another book.
Yes, it leads to a vicious cycle that leads to memes and Instagram barrages and new merch at Hot Topic. But let's be honest. There's no underage fines, no nights in the tank, no drunk dials leading to awkward avoidances of eye contact later on. That automatically makes it a good thing.
Prevention isn't Key—It's Condemnation
Of course, you could avoid the whole book hangover thing by never reading anything ever again. But, a word of caution. Nobody ever says, Boy, oh boy, abstinence! Do you know why? Because book abstinence is an unthinkable exile, an unjust condemnation. Why would you even think about doing that to yourself?
You did nothing wrong. You innocently picked up a book so you could engage your mind in a pleasing way to pass time. It's not your fault the characters came to life and rose up from the pages. It's not your fault their stories were so complex and emotionally riveting that you not only identified, you lived through them. You cried. You laughed. You highlighted your favorite passages and made quote art on Pic Monkey and I am here to tell you that none of it's your fault.
It's the author's.
That author did this to you. She may not have put the book in front of you and turned each page while you helplessly consumed her passion and craft but she may as well have. She concocted that wonderful elixir of plot and personality and perfection. She dreamed up those characters who haunt your every thought like a sweet echo. She's responsible for the way you see that book now everywhere you look, every time you go online or walk into a bookstore.
She's the one who cast this sheen of her book over every aspect of your life, so that you tear up when you run into Walmart because you see strawberries in the cooler as soon as you go in and that character had strawberry-blonde hair and died of diverticulitis because of a strawberry smoothie she shared with the boy she loved but could never have because he had to move to the opposite side of the world, like the exact opposite, drill straight down and there he'd be so you know he couldn't get any further from her so better diverticulitis than a broken heart. Oh my God, the feels—
So, blame the author. And then blame the next one because he is going to do the same damn thing to you because you will never, ever learn. Book hangovers are part of a vicious cycle of love-hate-miserable joy and I hope there will never ever be a cure for them.
Just as I hope there will be no end to the supply of authors who cause them.



Spellbound: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection
Bleeding HeartsAsh Krafton
Genre: fantasy/ paranormal romance/ urban fantasy
Publisher: genreCRAVE
Date of Publication: May 2, 2017
ASIN: B01N18NFS9
Number of pages: 5000+Word Count: 1.5 Million +
Cover Artist: Rebecca Frank
Box Set Description:
The Spellbound Boxed Set is a compilation of 20+ Full-Length Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance reads!
Readers of all ages will be swept away by this fascinating mix of existing titles and brand new content, full of pages brimming with faeries, witches, vampires, shifters, psychics, Greek gods, angels, demons, and even ghosts!
With over a million words of fiction, this is your one stop shop for urban fantasy, epic fantasy, sword and sorcery, shifter romance, vampire romance, elemental magic, time travel, and MORE from today’s New York Times, USA Today, and internationally bestselling authors!
Although some of these reads may be gritty and dark, this is a collection of clean reads that anyone will enjoy!
Pre-Order Sale Only .99
Amazon      Kobo      BN      Apple

The collection includes titles from…
International bestselling author Jade KerrionNEW YORK TIMES bestselling author Joanne WadsworthInternational bestselling author Nicole ZoltackInternational bestselling author Rachel E. CarterInternational bestselling author Andrea PearsonInternational bestselling author Alicia RadesInternational bestselling author Sophie DavisUSA TODAY bestselling author Michael J PloofInternational bestselling author Megan CreweInternational bestselling author C.E. WilsonInternational bestselling author Kelly CarreroInternational bestselling author Jess HainesInternational bestselling author E. BlixInternational bestselling author Alexis KadeInternational bestselling author GP ChingInternational bestselling author Gaja J. Kos and Boris KosInternational bestselling author Dara FraserInternational bestselling author Ash KraftonInternational bestselling author Jim JohnsonNEW YORK TIMES bestselling author Tom ShuttInternational bestselling author Emily Martha SorensenInternational bestselling author S McPherson
 The first chapters of books by each featured author are available in the Spellbound Sampler, available on Wattpad

Book Description Bleeding Hearts by Ash Krafton
Sophie Galen is an advice columnist whose work leaves her neck-deep in other people's problems. Thanks to her compassion, her gut instinct, and her magnetic charm, Sophie really knows how to attract little black clouds.
Marek Thurzo is no little black cloud; he's a maelstrom. Marek is Demivampire, a race with the potential to evolve into vampire. A warrior who's taken his share of spiritual damage, he hovers dangerously close to destruction.
He seeks salvation. She's driven to save him. But what if he can't be saved?
Sympathy for his plight becomes true empathy as Sophie's hidden nature is revealed. Marek suspects she may be one of the Sophia, oracle and redemption of the damned Demivampire. She alone can turn back the evolutionary clock.
All she needs is the courage to face her fears. Can she save him from Falling?
The following is an excerpt from BLEEDING HEARTS Demimonde Book 1 by Ash Krafton
In the great hall housing the Egyptian exhibitions, I immediately noted the change in the atmosphere. The room was cool and dry, its climate controlled to mimic the conditions in which the relics had existed in their native land.The entire room had been designed to resemble an Old Kingdom temple. The main lights were dimmed while strategically-placed spotlights emphasized massive columns and magnificent wall carvings like sunbeams through temple windows.I scanned the room. No other tourists. Even better. I meandered, enjoying the rare opportunity to linger.Craning my neck, I ran my gaze up each of the columns, reading the images, admiring the palm leaves carved at the tops like great stone trees. Eyes toward the ceilings, I turned slowly around, admiring the handiwork of the ancient artists.What was it like to live in those lands and those times? Could an ancient version of my spirit have been there, stepping barefoot and silently through a sandy temple like this one?Lost in contemplation, I was completely unprepared for the shock of smacking into someone, bumping him hard enough to lose my balance. I'd have fallen had he not caught my arm. Wide-eyed with consternation, I stammered an apology to the handsome but serious-faced gentleman."You are not hurt, I hope?" His voice, deep and smooth, sent shivers marching down my neck, between my shoulders, down my spine."I'm okay." I shook my head, too shy to make direct eye contact, wishing I'd checked my hair and lipstick before coming in. "I'm far too adept at being inept."He flashed a grin and I caught a glimpse of nice white teeth. "Temples are places for spiritual reflection. It is forgivable if your vision was turned inward, rather than toward where you were walking."His expression softened by amusement, he tilted his head toward the pillars. "Majestic, aren't they?"I stole another glance at him—black hair smoothed back into a discreet tail, clear light skin framed by long sideburns, strong jaw culminating in a square, cleft chin. Like the other items in the museum, something about him made me want to look closer, inspect each detail.A subtle flush warmed my cheeks and ears so I quickly turned back to the heights of the exhibition. Murmuring a sound of agreement, I circled the column, stepping a few feet away so I could see both him and the stone. "Do you visit this museum often?"Furtive glances allowed me to take in more of his appearance a tiny section at a time. Clothing dark as his hair. Long blazer, something in between a suit coat and an overcoat. In one hand he carried a bound book and fountain pen, as if he'd been making notes.His gaze was calm and steady and entirely on me. Taking a deep breath I permitted the contact of the direct look. My boldness was well-rewarded. His Paul Newman lips brought to mind the sculptured busts on display in the Greco-Roman Quarters and he wore a stern expression that cast a veil of hardness upon his features, enhancing the impression he'd been carved from marble.Except for his eyes. The Roman busts bore eyes that were blank and white but this man's eyes were alive with bright green color. Like gemstones, they glittered and drew my gaze."No, actually," he said. "My first time here. Although, I admit, I'm drawn to places like this." His voice made music of the words—deep bass notes and soothing rhythm."Ah!" I said. "A man after my own heart." His left eyebrow arched so sharply I thought it might disappear into his hairline and I hurriedly continued. "Are you a professor?""No, nothing like that. I do studying of my own, it's not a living. It's more of a hobby. Personal research, of sorts.""Studying past times is one of my pastimes. It's my preferred form of entertainment.""Mmm." Eyebrow cocked again, he cast a disapproving look at me and swept his hand around the contrived temple. "Would the gods be pleased to know they are reduced to the level of entertainment?""I hope so." I kept my tone light. Considering the seriousness of his expression, I didn't want to accidentally insult him. "Otherwise, they'd have to be content with staying dead, right?"His gaze swept over me and I shivered again as if the touch had been tangible, a brush of fingertips against my cheek."Well, I'll leave you to your worship. I mean, your wanderings." He gave me a conspirator's wink. "Unless..."He hesitated, with a quiet clearing of throat as he tucked his notebook and pen into an inside pocket. "You wouldn't mind a companion? Sometimes one sees things differently when seeing through another's eyes. I would appreciate a new perspective."I mulled it over, listening to the rain spattering the windows and distant voices echoing faintly from other rooms. Although I'd looked forward to a quiet afternoon, it might be nice to spend it with someone who seemed to share my interests. He certainly was attractive, and his pleasant voice intrigued me.I realized I'd become used to living inside a shell. This man made me want to step outside for once."I'd like that." I smiled at his pleased expression. "I'm Sophie, by the way." I stuck out my hand in introduction.Instead of shaking my hand, he bent his head over it and pressed polite lips to the backs of my fingers. The quaint gesture would have seemed strange and out of place had we been elsewhere. "I am Marek. Pleased to make your acquaintance."Fingers tingling from the unexpected kiss, I fought the urge to curtsy. "Well, Marek. Lead me into the past."His almost-smile sent a thrill down the back of my neck. "That's exactly the sort of thing I'd hoped you say. Shall we?"He turned on his heel and swept out a hand with a slight bow, indicating the archway to another exhibit. For the first time since I'd been coming to this museum, I wondered what I'd see on the other side, and was surprised to realize I wasn't afraid to find out.



About the Author:
A speculative fiction girl through and through, Ash writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy novels as well as poetry and short fiction. She also writes for New Adult audiences under the name AJ Krafton. Her work has won a bunch of awards and was even nominated for a Pushcart Prize. When she's not writing, she's practicing Tai Chi, listening to loud rock and metal, or crushing on supervillains.
Most recently, she's re-released her urban fantasy trilogy THE BOOKS OF THE DEMIMONDE because she never really left the world of Sophie and her Demivamps. She's also working on the next installment of her Demon Whisperer series.
Find out more when you visit www.ashkrafton.com
Blog: http://ash-krafton.blogspot.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/ashkrafton
Facebook: http://facebook.com/ashkraftonauthor
Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/Ash_Krafton
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/demimondeash
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/ash_krafton
Website: http://www.ashkrafton.com/
Newsletter: http://www.subscribepage.com/b1w9p1

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Daughter of Aithne by Karin Rita Gastreich

Daughter of AithneThe Silver WebBook ThreeKarin Rita Gastreich
Genre: Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Romance
Publisher: Orb Weaver Press
Date of Publication: May 2017
ISBN: 978-0-9972320-2-8ASIN: B06WCZYRNW
Number of pages: 386Word Count: 119,000
Cover Artist: Thomas Vandenberg
Book Description:
Betrayed by her own prodigy and accused of treason, Eolyn forges a risky alliance with the ruthless and cunning Mage Corey. As enemies old and new rise to arms, the beleaguered queen of magic prepares for a final, desperate battle to secure her son's throne.
Across the Furma River, Taesara of Roenfyn is drawn out of seclusion and into an ever-more vicious game of intrigue and war. Subject to the schemes of her uncle and the mysterious ambitions of the wizards of Galia, she fights to assert her will while defending her daughter's inheritance.
In the climactic finale to The Silver Web trilogy, threads of love, honor, betrayal, and vengeance culminate in a violent conflict between powerful women, opposed to each other yet destined to shatter a thousand-year cycle of war.
Amazon

"Vigorously told deceptions and battle scenes...with a romantic thread." -Publishers Weekly review of Eolyn, Book One of the Silver Web
“Lush, evocative descriptions carry readers through an unforgettable journey.” –Kirkus Reviews review of Sword of Shadows, Book Two of the Silver Web.
Excerpt ONE:
Taesara left the kitchen and climbed the narrow stairs that led to the Mother’s study and a handful of chambers set aside for receiving guests from the outside world. The rest of the cloister was stark in its furnishings and modest in decoration, but here the chairs and tables were finely carved. Tapestries graced the walls with images of men and women called by Thunder during the long and difficult history of Taesara’s people. When she entered the study, the man standing at the window wheeled about and pinned her with a stern gaze. His long face was framed by graying hair, his sage cloak richly embroidered with silver threads.“My Lord Regent.” Taesara sank to her knees, deeply troubled by this unannounced visit. A rustle of skirts indicated the Mother’s approach. The old woman laid a frail but steady hand on Taesara’s shoulder. “If it pleases you, Lord Regent, I will take my leave now, so that you may speak with your niece.”Taesara looked up at the Mother with a mixture of hurt and trepidation. “Dear Mother, I have no family in this world, not since I—” “Hush, my daughter.” The Mother took Taesara’s face in her hands and studied her with kind eyes. “I know the vows you took when you entered this place better than you. I do not doubt the devotion with which you have served the Gods as part of our community these many years. Your family has indeed been dead to you, but now Thunder wishes to call you back to the world of the living. Listen to your uncle, for he seeks to resurrect your heart from its grave. The news he bears will bring you much joy.”“But I don’t want—”“Know that whatever you decide, you have my blessing.” The Mother kissed Taesara and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Taesara lowered her gaze to the floor, burdened by a terrible uncertainty she had not felt in years.Sylus Penamor, Lord Regent of Roenfyn, strode forward and extended a gloved hand to his niece. “Rise, Taesara.”She obeyed, stiffening as Penamor took her chin in his fingers and subjected her to cold inspection. After a moment, his frown deepened and he shook his head. “Only the Sisters of the Poor could take a woman at the height of her flower and turn her into a dried-up weed.”Taesara bristled. “There is no place for vanity within these walls.”“Apparently not. They’ve made you skinny and sallow. Though it is nothing, I’ll wager, that a bit of sun and some proper food cannot remedy. What are these rags they dress you in?”She stepped away, clenching her jaw. “This is all I need. All anyone needs, to live at peace in this world.”Penamor snorted. “Indeed.” “Why are you here?”“I’ve come to fetch you home.”“This is my home.”“This was your temporary refuge. A foul place, but one of your choosing. We were generous enough to let you stay, first your father and then I, as we put the outside world in order. Now it is time for you to return.”“I am not going back.”“Oh, but I think you will.” Penamor spoke with an odd tone, at once menacing and full of promise. “War is at hand, and you will be the one to lead it.”Taesara forced a laugh. “You know I will have no part of it. Eliasara would die at their hands if we so much as—”“They do not have Eliasara,” he said. “We do.”Shadows flashed through Taesara’s vision. She stumbled and caught hold of the back of a chair. A chasm opened inside her heart, swallowing the vines and trees with which she had concealed her love and pain during all these years. The bitter flood of anguish returned full force.“Where is she?” Taesara did not look at her uncle, her mind consumed by the image of King Akmael’s stony countenance, his dark intent, his merciless heart.“About a day’s ride from here. She has been asking for you.”“Is she…whole? Have they harmed her in any way?”“Do you mean have they turned her into a witch? No. Eliasara is a true daughter of Roenfyn. She has remained faithful to her memory of you, and to the convictions of her people. And she is beautiful, Taesara, as lovely as you were at her age, with the same sweet smile and golden hair.”“She will not recognize me. She had only just begun to walk when we were separated.”“She will know who you are. That is enough. She wants a mother to love, and one who will love her. She needs you, Taesara.”Unable to endure the weight of the moment, Taesara sank to the floor. Oh, sweet Thunder, help me. “What is this unbearable work of the Gods?” she asked. “How has such a thing come to pass?”“That is an amusing story to tell.” Penamor knelt at her side. The smell of leather and horse stung her senses. “The wizard Tzeremond often said that the magas always betray their own, and so that old hawk’s wisdom has once again proven true. The Witch Queen’s greatest student, a maga warrior by the name of Ghemena, broke into Eliasara’s prison with two of her companions. They slew the Mage King’s guards and brought the Princess to Roenfyn, to me. Now the magas stand with us, ready to fight.”Fire surged through Taesara’s veins.“Who else?” she demanded. “Who else stands with Roenfyn?”“Galia has agreed to support our cause, and new messengers have been dispatched to Antaria. We await their response. We also have allies inside Moisehén: noble families whose loyalty I have cultivated in secret; mages who pretend to serve King Akmael; and others among the Witch Queen’s guard who are anxious to see the line of Mage Kings dissolved. This is our moment, Taesara. Your moment. To exact vengeance on the King of Moisehén and his villainous harlot, to kill their bastards, and to see your daughter and all her descendants claim the Crown of Vortingen.”Taesara straightened her back, withdrawing from her uncle’s grasp and taking deep breaths as she tried to steady her pulse. After a long moment, she leveled her gaze at him. “I don’t care about any of that, Uncle. All I want is to see my daughter.”A smile of triumph touched his lips. “As well I knew you would.
About the Author:

Karin Rita Gastreich writes stories of ordinary women and the extraordinary paths they choose. An ecologist by vocation, Karin has wandered forests and wildlands all her life. Her pastimes include camping, hiking, music, and flamenco dance. In addition to THE SILVER WEB trilogy, Karin has published short stories in World Jumping, Zahir, Adventures for the Average Woman, and 69 Flavors of Paranoia. She is a recipient of the Spring 2011 Andrews Forest Writer’s Residency.
Web: https://krgastreich.com/
Twitter: @EolynChronicles
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Eolyn-110814625640244/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4431702.Karin_Rita_Gastreich
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